Chapter 10 chapter Ten

A small group of people came out of the "Red Bull Shop", and the brief post-mortem work was completed-it turned out to have to wait two more days.Rosamund Daly walked to Marshall's side and whispered, "The situation is not that bad, is it? Gan?" He didn't answer right away, maybe he noticed the eyes of many villagers looking at him, and the fingers that were forced to hold back from pointing at him. "That's him." "Look, that's the woman's husband." "Luo! He's that husband." "Look, the person walking past is..."

The whispers weren't loud enough to reach his ears, but he could still feel them.This is the shackles of the modern man, and he has already experienced the journalism—those confident, persuasive young men who are desperately trying to tear down the wall of silence he built with "no comment".Even some meaningless noises he made, which he thought would at least not arouse wild speculation, took on a completely different meaning in the next day's paper, "After asking him whether he agreed with his wife's death With the assumption that the killer had arrived on the island as the only explanation, Mr. Marshall said—"Etc.

The cameras kept ringing, and at this moment, this familiar voice came into his ears again, and he turned half sideways——a smiling young man nodded happily to him, his The purpose has been achieved. Rosamund murmured: "Marshall and his friends left the Red Bull shop after the autopsy." Marshall made a sad face, and Rosamund said: "It's useless, Gan! You have to face this! I It's not just the fact that Elena is dead—I mean all the trouble that comes with it, the stares and gossip and fake interviews in the papers—most The best thing to do is to face it and laugh it off. Answer them with platitudes and sneer at them."

"That's how you deal with them?" he said. "Yes," she paused, "I know, this is not the method you use, you have to use a protective color, you have to remain motionless and recede into the background! But you can't do that here—— There's no background for you to blend into the disappearance, you're clearly visible to everyone - like a brindle tiger against a white cloth. You're the husband of the murdered woman! " "My God, Rosamon—" She said softly, "Honey, I'm doing this for your own good." They walked a few steps in silence, and then Marshall said in another tone: "I know you're doing it for my own good, and I'm not ungrateful, Rosamon."

They had already walked outside the village, and there were still many people following them, but no one was near them.Rosamund lowered her voice and repeated her first sentence, "The situation is actually not that bad, is it?" He was silent for a while, then said, "I don't know." "What do the police think?" "They didn't comment." After a minute Rosamund said: "Is that little man—Poirot—really interested in investigating?" "He seemed to be following the chief of police that day," said Kenneth Marshall. "I know—but is he doing anything?"

"How should I know, Rosamon?" She pondered and said: "He is quite old, maybe a little bit old and confused." "Maybe." When they reached the embankment, the small island was just opposite them, bathed in sunlight, and Rosamund said suddenly: "Sometimes—everything is so unreal, I can't believe it happened now..." Marshall said slowly, "I think I know what you mean. Nature is always like that—not affected at all! Only one ant is missing—that's all in nature!" Rosamund said, "That's right—it's the right way to look at it."

He took a quick look at her, and then he said in a very low voice: "Don't worry, honey, everything is all right, everything is all right!" Linda came to meet them from the embankment.She was like a nervous pony, her movements were abrupt and excited, her young face had dark shadows under her eyes, her lips were dry and thick, she said a little out of breath: "How is it?" What—what—what did they say?" Her father said abruptly: "It will take another two days to find out." "That means they—they haven't decided yet?" "Yes, more evidence is needed."

"But—but what do they think?" Marshall smiled involuntarily. "Ah, boy—who knows? Who are you talking about? The coroner? The jury? The police? The journalists? The fishermen from the village of Cove Cove?" Linda said slowly, "I think I mean—the police." Marshall said indifferently: "No matter what the police are thinking, they have not revealed it yet." After saying this, he closed his mouth tightly and walked into the hotel. Rosamund Dai Li was about to follow in when Linda said, "Rosadream." Rosamone turned around, and she was deeply moved by the silent pleading on the girl's unhappy face.She took Linda's hand, and together they left the front of the hotel and walked along the path leading to the other side of the island.

Rosamund said softly: "Try not to think too much about it, Linda, I know it's a terrible fright for you, but it's no use thinking about it all the time, and it's probably just-- The dread of things worries you, and you know that you don't like Elena at all." She felt Linda's body tremble and heard her reply, "Well, I don't like her..." Rosamone continued: "For a person, sadness is another matter-you can't leave sadness behind, but if a person can stop himself from thinking, it is okay for shock and terror. Forgot." Linda said unhappily, "You don't understand."

"I think I understand, son." Linda shook her head, "No, you don't understand, you don't understand at all - neither does Christine! You two are very good to me, but you don't understand how I feel right now. You just feel that It's a terrible thing—I'm thinking about it when I don't need to." She paused, "but it's not like that at all, and if you knew what I knew—" Rosamund froze for a moment, her body didn't tremble—on the contrary, she was stiff.She stood there for a minute or two, then she took her hand out of Linda's and said, "What do you know, Linda?"

The girl stared at her, then shook her head, and said falteringly, "It's nothing." Rosamone grabbed her arm, so tight that Linda wrinkled her shield in pain.Rosamund said: "Be careful, Linda! Be careful!" Linda paled and said, "I'm careful—always careful." Rosamund said eagerly: "Listen, Linda, what I said a minute or two ago means the same now—and a hundred times more, forget everything, never think about him again, forget ——Forget... As long as you are willing to try, you will be able to forget it. Elena is dead, and no matter how hard you try, you can't bring her back to life... Forget everything, live in the future, and most importantly, Keep your mouth shut." Linda flinched back a little. She said, "You—you seem to know it all?" Rosamund said forcefully: "I don't know anything! In my opinion, a murderer stole onto this island and killed Elena. This is also the most likely answer. I can probably say Surely the police will have to accept it in the end. That's the way it has to be? That's the way it is!" Linda said, "If Daddy—" Rosamund interrupted her. "say no more." Linda said, "I must say one thing, my mother—" "How? How is she?" "She—she was on trial for murder, wasn't she?" "yes." Linda said slowly, "And then Dad married her, so it looked like Dad didn't think murder was very wrong—I mean, not all wrong." Rosamund said categorically: "Don't say this anymore—even to me! The police have nothing against your father. He has an alibi—an alibi that they can't break. Safety." Linda said in a low voice, "Did they think Papa at first—?" Rosamone exclaimed: "I don't know what they thought before! But now they know it's impossible for him to do it, do you understand? It's impossible for him to do it!" Her tone was very authoritative, her eyes seemed to be ordering Linda accepted her argument.Linda gave a long sigh, and Rosamund said, "You'll be out of here soon, and you'll forget everything—everything!" Linda suddenly said with a surprisingly violent expression: "I will never forget it." She turned around and ran back to the hotel, Rosamund staring at her back. "Madam, I would like to ask one or two things." Christine Redfern raised her head, looked at Poirot with a somewhat bewildered look, and said: "What is it?" Hercule Poirot didn't seem to notice her blankness. He had noticed her eyes following her husband walking up and down the balcony outside the bar, but he was not interested in other people's problems between husband and wife at present. , what he wants is information.He said, "Ma'am, what I want to ask is a sentence—a sentence you said by chance that day caught my attention." Still keeping her eyes on Patrick, Christine said, "Oh? What did I say?" "That was a reply to the questioning of the Commissioner. You said that you went to Miss Linda Marshall's room on the morning of the crime, found her absent, and then she returned. At that time, the Commissioner asked you what she had done at first. Where did you go?" Christine said impatiently, "I said she went swimming, didn't she?" "Ah, but that's not what you said then, you didn't say, 'She went swimming', you said, 'She said she went swimming'." "It's the same thing," said Christine. "No, it's different! The way you answer that way suggests something on your part. Linda Marshall came back into the room—she was in a bathing suit, but—for some reason—you didn't immediately assume she It was from a swim, as you can tell by the phrase 'she said she went swimming' - whether it was her attitude, or what she was wearing, or something she said, that made you Surprised when she said she went swimming?" Christine's attention turned from Patrick to Poirot, and she was now interested.She said, "You're so clever. That's right, now that I think about it... I was actually a little surprised when Linda told me she'd gone swimming." "Why? Madame, why?" "Yeah, why? That's what I'm trying to recall now. Ah, yeah, I think it's because of the package she was holding." "She has a package?" "yes." "You don't know what's in there, do you?" "Ah, I know, the rope is unraveled, things are loosely tied in their village, and there are candles in it—it's all scattered on the ground, and I helped her pick it up." "Ah," said Poirot, "it's a candle." Christine stared at him. She said: "You seem very excited, Mr. Poirot." Poirot asked: "Did Linda say why she bought candles?" Christine replied, "No, I don't think she said it. I think it's for reading in the evening—perhaps the light isn't very bright." "On the contrary, ma'am, her bedside lamp is very bright." Christine said, "Then I don't know what she's going to do with candles." Poirot said: "What was her attitude then—when the string came loose and the candle rolled out of the paper bag?" Christine said slowly, "She's—uneasy—embarrassed." Poirot nodded, and then asked, "Did you notice the green calendar in her room?" "Calendar? What kind of calendar?" Poirot said: "Probably green calendars—torn one by one." Christine looked up and tried to remember, "A green calendar—emerald green, yes, I've seen one like that—but I can't remember where. Probably in Linda room, but I'm not sure." "But have you ever seen such a thing?" "Yes." Poirot nodded again, and Christine asked a little angrily, "What are you implying? Mr. Poirot, what exactly do you mean?" Poirot made no reply, but produced a small book bound in faded brown leather, "Have you ever seen this book before?" "Well—I think—I'm not sure—yes, Linda was reading this book at the village bookshop that day, but when I got to her, she closed the book and put it back quickly. On the shelf, I was wondering what book this was." Poirot silently showed her the title of the book: "History of Witchcraft and Untraceable Poisons." Christine said, "I don't understand, what does all this mean?" Poirot said gloomily, "Madam, there may be quite a lot of meanings in it." She looked at him puzzled, but he didn't continue, but asked again: "One more question, madam, did you take a shower before you went to play tennis that morning?" Christine's eyes widened again. "Bath? No, I didn't have time at all, and I didn't think about taking a shower—not before playing tennis, but after." "Did you use the bathroom when you came back?" "I just washed my face and hands, that's all." "No bath water at all?" "No, I'm pretty sure not." Poirot nodded, and said: "It's not important." Hercule Poirot stood at the table where Mrs. Gardner was laboring over the puzzle.She looked up, startled. "Why, Mr. Poirot, how did you come up to me so quietly? I didn't hear a sound at all. Did you just come back from an inquest? You know, the mere thought of an inquest makes me I'm on edge, I don't know what to do. That's why I'm doing the puzzle here, I just don't feel like I can sit out on the beach like I usually do, and Mr. Gardner knows that when I'm on the nerves, there's nothing better than doing a puzzle. That calms me down. Geez, where is the white one? It must be part of the plush rug, but I can't seem to see..." Poirot tenderly took the piece out of her hand, and said: "Here it is, madam; it is part of the cat." "Impossible, it's a black cat." "A black cat, yes, but you see, the tip of the black cat's tail happens to be white." "Oh, that's true! You're so smart! But I really think those who make jigsaw puzzles are really bad. They deliberately try their best to deceive you." She put the other piece away, and continued: "You know, Bai Mr. Luo, I have been paying attention to you for the past two days. I want to see how you investigate. You know what I mean—it’s not like I’m so heartless, as if this is a game—but actually Someone died. Ouch, every time I think about it I shake! I told Mr. Gardner this morning that I had to get out of here. Now that the autopsy has been done, he says he thinks we can go tomorrow. Well, that's a very good thing. But as for the detection, I'd like to know your method—you know, I'd be very obliged if you could explain it to me." Hercule Poirot said: "It's kind of like your jigsaw puzzle, ma'am, and I'm going to put all the pieces together, like a mosaic - many colors, many patterns - and each piece Small pieces must be put together where they should be." "Oh, that's really interesting. Oh, you've explained it really well." Poirot went on: "Sometimes it's like the piece of the jigsaw puzzle you just put together. When a person plays this game alone, there is always a way-to separate the various colors-but there may be a certain way. The pieces of color seem to be put together—for example, on the long-haired rug, but should be put on the tip of the black cat's tail." "Well, this is wonderful! Are there many, many fragments, M. Poirot?" "Yes, ma'am, almost everyone in this hotel gave me a piece to put together, and you were one of them." "Me?" Mrs. Gardner said excitedly. "Yes. Ma'am, your words are very helpful to me. I can say that they have a deafening effect on me." "Oh, that's really remarkable! Could you tell me a little more, M. Poirot?" "Ah, ma'am. I'll save these instructions for the last chapter." Mrs. Gardner murmured, "Ouch! That's such a pity!" Hercule Poirot knocked lightly on the door of Mr. Marshall's room, and there was the sound of typing and a "come in", and Poirot walked in.Marshall, with his back turned to him, was sitting at the little table between the two windows typing, and he did not look back, but his eyes were fixed on Poirot in the mirror which was hanging on the wall opposite him.He said with some displeasure: "Well, Mr. Poirot, what's the matter?" Poirot said quickly: "I'm sorry to disturb you like this. Are you busy?" Marshall said plainly, "Busy." Poirot said: "I have a little question to ask you." Marshall said: "My God, I'm tired of answering questions. I've already answered the police's questions. I don't want to answer your questions." Poirot said: "My question is very simple, that is, on the morning when Mrs. Zun was killed, after you finished typing and before you went to play tennis, did you take a bath?" "A bath? No, of course I didn't! I just had a bath an hour ago." Hercule Poirot said: "Thank you, and nothing else." "But I said—oh—" Marshall stopped inexplicably, and Poirot withdrew from the door, closing it softly.Kenneth Marshall said: "This guy is crazy!" Poirot met Mr. Gardner at the door of the bar. He was holding two glasses of cocktails and was obviously about to deliver them to Mrs. Gardner who was busy with the puzzle. He smiled politely at Poirot. "Come and sit with us, M. Poirot?" Poirot shook his head. "How do you feel about this inquest, Mr. Gardner?" Mr. Gardner lowered his voice and said: "I don't think there is any result yet. I don't think your police have used any tricks yet." "Very likely," said Poirot. Mr. Gardner lowered his voice, "I'd love to get Mrs. Gardner out of here early, she's a very, very sensitive woman, she's very upset about this, she's nervous. " Hercule Poirot said: "Mr. Gardner, may I ask you a question?" "Well, of course, M. Poirot, I'll be more than happy to help in any way I can." Hercule Poirot said: "You're a well-informed man--and I think you're a very wise man, too. Frankly, what do you think of the late Mrs. Marshall?" Mr. Gardner raised his eyebrows in surprise, looked around cautiously, and then said in a low voice: "Well, Mr. Poirot, I've heard some rumors, you know what I mean, especially those women Words passed around." Poirot nodded. "But if you ask me, I can tell you what I really think, that woman is a damn fool!" Hercule Poirot said thoughtfully: "Well, that's an interesting remark." Rosamund Daly said, "It's my turn now, isn't it?" "Sorry, what did you say?" She laughed. "You sat aside when the Chief Constable was questioned that day. Today, I think, you are doing your own informal investigation. I have been watching you. First Mrs. Redfern, then I Saw you from the lounge window with Mrs. Gardner playing her nasty jigsaw puzzle, and now it's my turn." Hercule Poirot sat down beside her, and they were on Sunny Cliffs, the water below was a beautiful green, and a little farther off it was a dazzling pale blue.Poirot said: "You are very clever, mademoiselle, and I have been thinking since I came here that it would be a pleasure to discuss matters with you." Rosamund Daly said softly: "You want to know my opinion on this matter?" "I think it must be interesting." Rosamund said: "I think this matter is actually very simple. The clue of the case lies in this woman's past." "Past? Not now?" "Oh! It doesn't have to be a long, long time ago, that's how I see it. Elena Marshall is very attractive, very attractive to men, and I think she might be attracted to a man Get bored quickly, and among her - shall we say, suitors - there's one guy who doesn't like that much, ah, don't get me wrong, won't be a standout, maybe just A petty little fellow, vain, and sensitive—the kind of horny guy, I think he stalked her here and killed her when he got the chance." "You mean he's a foreigner? From the other side?" "Yes, he is probably hiding in that hole waiting for a chance to strike." Poirot shook his head. He said: "Will she go there to meet a person like the one you describe? No, she will laugh it off and won't go." Rosamund said: "Maybe she didn't know that she would see him, maybe he sent her a letter under someone else's name." Poirot murmured: "It's possible, too." Then he said: "But you forget one thing, madam, a murderer who wants to murder won't dare to risk crossing the embankment and passing through the hotel in broad daylight. Maybe someone will see him." "Possibly—but I don't think it's certain. It's likely that no one noticed when he came." "It is indeed possible, I agree with that, but the problem is that he cannot be so sure." Rosamund said: "You forget one thing, the weather." "weather?" "Yes, the day of the murder was a fine day, but the day before? It rained and there was a thick fog, you remember. Then if anyone comes to the island, no one will notice. He can go straight away. Go to Little Demon Bay and spend the night in the cave, Mister Poirot, that fog is very important." Poirot gazed at her thoughtfully for a minute or two.He said, "You know, there's a lot of truth in what you just said." Rosamund blushed.She said, "Whether it's true or not, that's my theory. Now tell me yours." "Ah," said Hercule Poirot, looking down at the sea. "Miss, I'm a very simple person. I always believe that the most suspected person is the one who committed the crime. At first I thought there was one person, and all the evidence pointed to him clearly." Rosameng's tone became cold, and she said, "Go ahead." Hercule Poirot went on: "But, you know, there is an impediment in it, as if it were impossible for that so-and-so to do the murder." He heard her exhale sharply.She said out of breath, "How is it?" Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, what do we do? That's my problem." He paused, then continued, "Can I ask you a question?" "of course can." She turned to him, a little alert and guarded, but Poirot's question was more than she had expected. "When you went back to your room to change and play tennis that morning, did you take a shower?" Rosamone stared at him, "Take a bath? What do you mean by that?" "That's what it means, take a bath! It's a large magnetic tank. You turn on the faucet, put water in, then enter the bathtub, come out again, and then wow-wow-wow, the water is released from the sewage pipe. " "Mr. Poirot, are you crazy?" "No, I'm quite sober." "Anyway, I didn't take a shower anyway." "Ha!" said Poirot, "it is very interesting that no one has bathed." "But why should anyone take a bath?" Hercule Poirot said: "Well, why?" Rosamund said a little unhappy: "I think this is Holmes' method!" Hercule Poirot smiled, and he sniffed the air. "May I take the liberty of asking one more question, miss?" "I trust you will not take the liberty, M. Poirot." "You are too kind. Then may I say that the perfume you use is very good--it has a special temperament--very charming fragrance." He waved his hand, and then said seriously: "I think it's Gabriel Perfume No. 8?" "You're so clever, yes, I've always worn that perfume." "The late Mrs. Marshall also used this brand of perfume. It's very popular, eh? And it's expensive, right?" Rosamund shrugged her shoulders and smiled slightly.Poirot said: "You were sitting where we are sitting on the morning of the case, madam, and you were seen here, or at least Miss Brest and Mr. Are you sure you didn't go down to Little Goblin's Bay that morning, Miss, and go into that cave—the famous Goblin's Cave?" Rosamund turned her head and stared at him, she asked in a very calm voice: "Are you asking if I killed Elena Marshall?" "No, I'm asking if you have entered the fairy cave?" "I don't even know where the hole is, why should I go in it? For what reason?" "On the day of the crime, madam, a man who wore Gabriel No. 8 was in the goblin's cave." Rosamund said in a sharp tone: "You yourself said just now, Mr. Poirot, that Eleanor Marshall also wore Gabriel No. 8 perfume. She was on the beach there that day, and she probably went into the cave. Bar." "Why did she go into the cave? It's dark, cramped, and uncomfortable." Luo Shameng said impatiently: "Don't ask me why, because she is actually there, so she is the most likely person to go in. I have already told you that I have not left here all morning." "Except when you go back to the hotel to Mr. Marshall's room," Poirot reminded her. "Ah, yes, I forgot about that." Poirot said: "And you are mistaken, madam, in thinking that Mr. Marshall did not see you." Luo Shameng couldn't believe it and said: "Gan Yishi said he saw me? He——Is that what he said?" Poirot nodded, "Miss, he saw you in the mirror hanging above the desk." Rosamund took a deep breath."Oh, that's right," she said. Poirot no longer looked at the sea, but at Rosamund's hands in his bosom.Her hands were beautiful, with long fingers.Rosamone glanced at him and followed his gaze.She said sharply: "What do you see my hands do? Don't you think--don't you think--?" Poirot said: "I thought—what, Mademoiselle?" Rosamund Daly said, "Nothing." About an hour later Hercule Poirot was on the path to Gull Bay, and there was a man sitting on the beach, a small man in a red shirt and dark yellow shorts.Poirot went down the path, treading cautiously with his feet in tight, fashionable leather shoes.Linda Marshall turned her head so sharply that he thought she flinched.When he sat next to her on the beach, her eyes fell on his face with the suspicious and alert look of a small animal caught in a trap, and he suddenly felt how young and vulnerable she was.She said, "What is it? What do you want?" Hercule Poirot did not answer for a minute or two, then he said: "You told the prefect the other day that you liked your stepmother very much, and she was very kind to you." "How about it?" "It's not really like that, is it? Miss." "Who said that? It is." Poirot said: "Perhaps she may not have been really mean to you—I agree with that, but you don't like her—ah,—I think you dislike her, that sort of thing is obvious." Linda said: "Maybe I don't like her very much, but people are dead, so I can't say that anymore, it's too indecent." Poirot sighed. "Is that what they taught you at school?" he said. "I suppose it's always been like that, more or less." Hercule Poirot said: "When a man is murdered, it is far more important to tell the truth than to be serious." Linda said, "I think that's what you'd say." "I'll say it, and I'll say it. You know, I'm going to find out who killed Arlena Marshall." Linda murmured, "I want to forget about it, it's horrible." Poirot said gently: "But you can't forget, can you?" Linda said: "I think a murderous lunatic killed her." Hercule Poirot murmured: "No, I don't think so." Linda gasped.She said, "You say it—as if you already knew it." Poirot said: "Perhaps I do already know." He paused, and then continued: "Son, can you believe that I will do everything in my power to help you out of your troubles?" Linda jumped up, and she said, "I'm not in any trouble, and you can't help me, I don't know what you're talking about." Poirot looked at her and said: "I'm talking about candles..." He saw the sudden look of terror in her eyes, and she cried, "I won't listen to you, I won't listen." She rushed across the beach, running like a young antelope down the winding path up. Poirot shook his head, his expression somber and perplexed.